


Mirror

by Thistlerose



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-16
Updated: 2010-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Lupin thinks it's terribly nice of Sirius Black to let Remus live with him in his flat. If she only knew...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror

"Well, I still think it's an awfully small flat for two people to share," Mrs. Lupin said as she turned in the doorway. She fumbled with the buttons of her mackintosh.

"Fortunately, neither of us is very big," Sirius said, leaning against Remus and grinning over his shoulder. Holding Mrs. Lupin's gaze, he cupped Remus's arse – which _was_ rather skinny. Not that that was a bad thing. Remus tensed against him, but his mum seemed oblivious.

"I wish you had a proper bed," she told her son.

"The sofa's comfortable enough," Remus said with impressive nonchalance, considering the way Sirius was now fingering him through the worn seat of his denims.

"It's not good for your back," said Mrs. Lupin.

"Would you rather he sleep in my bed?" Sirius drawled. "There's room."

Remus couldn't hold back his gasp, and Mrs. Lupin shot him a dirty look.

"I'm joking," said Sirius. "Any rumors you might have heard are just that – rumors."

Mrs. Lupin flushed and looked slightly chagrined – which made her look a little more like her son. Which was strangely unnerving. "Well. I never paid any mind to such gossip. People say anything and everything about the Blacks."

"They do indeed," said Sirius airily. "Of course, just about everything else you might have heard about the rest of my family – except cousin Andromeda – is most likely true."

"_Mum._" There was a note of desperation in Remus's voice.

Mrs. Lupin finished buttoning her mackintosh. "I'm going! You're awfully eager to be rid of me, now that you've got your own place." But her tone was gentle. Sirius stepped back so she could hug Remus one more time, and kiss his cheek. "Take care of yourself. Contact me if you need anything."

"I will," Remus said.

"Take care of him," she said teasingly to Sirius.

"Oh, I shall," he promised.

Remus made a small sound of distress, which, fortunately, his mum misinterpreted.

"I'm going!" She picked up her umbrella, readjusted her handbag, turned, and started for the stairwell.

Remus closed the door quickly and turned to Sirius. "You bastard!"

"What?" said Sirius innocently.

"You gave me a stiffy! In front of my mum!" He made to hit Sirius's chest, but Sirius caught his wrists. "What the bloody hell were you thinking? And all that talk about room in your bed, and your family! Let go of me."

"No," Sirius said. "I promised your mummy I'd take care of you."

"Piss off."

Sirius's grin broadened. He held onto Remus's wrists. "So, your mum's read the gossip columns, has she? 'If rumors are true, it's a good thing for the House of Black that Orion and Walpurga have a second son,'" he quoted. "And yet she's letting you live with me."

"I'm over seventeen," Remus grumbled. "I can do what I like."

"We can do what we both like," Sirius suggested.

"No." Remus wrenched himself free.

"How's that stiffy?" Sirius inquired as Remus shoved his way past him.

"Piss off, I said."

"Moony." Sirius turned and followed him into the kitchen. "Your mum was _not_ looking at your knob."

Remus shot him a look that said plainly, _Drop it._

Sirius shrugged.

"_Look_ at all this stuff," said Remus, gesturing about the small kitchen.

There were cardboard boxes everywhere – on the table, the floor, the two chairs, and the narrow countertop. Some were sealed with Spell-o-tape and contained – according to their labels – dishes, glassware, and teapots.

"Tea_pots_?" said Remus bemusedly. "Why does she think we need more than one?" He used his wand to slice open one of the boxes. "Oh. These are all from the Oxfam shop, I think. Sorry."

"I don't care," Sirius said.

"They're rubbish. Cheap," he added, when Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Second-hand."

"Moony, I don't care. It was nice of your mum to bring them. Look at all this food she brought us, too."

To his surprise, Remus pushed the box away, and stalked out of the kitchen.

"What _now?_"

"Piss _off._"

Sirius found him in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet lid, his head in his hands.

"What?" he asked.

"Piss off." Remus's voice was muffled by his hands.

"This is _my_ flat."

"I _know._"

"I'm not going to piss off in my own flat."

"Do whatever you want, then."

"All right," said Sirius. "But you'll have to bend over."

Remus's head shot up. He looked utterly drained, his brown eyes sunken, his lips slack and colorless.

Sirius was sorry immediately. He leaned against the doorframe, his hands limp at his sides. "What?" he asked gently. "Is it just the groping?"

Remus drew a deep breath. "That's part of it," he said after a moment, in a tone that was carefully flat. "In front of my _mum_, Sirius? But it's not just that." He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. "This is _your_ flat. I can barely afford my half of the rent. Then my mum comes over with all her boxes of cheap Muggle stuff. It's just— And I've _still_ got a stiffy."

Sirius swallowed. What he wanted to say was, _I can help with that last bit, at least._ But he had some sense and empathy, whatever Remus thought of him just then.

"It was nice of her to bring all that stuff."

"I suppose we could store it somewhere," Remus said. "Take it out whenever she comes over."

"Nah, we'll use it."

"You've got your own stuff."

"It's _our_ stuff now." Sirius raised his eyebrows, but Remus did not look consoled. "I wasn't thinking when I grabbed you, if that helps. I mean, I wasn't thinking about your mum. I didn't mean any disrespect. Your arse was just _there_, and so was my hand. I couldn't help it."

"Piss off." It came out as a whisper.

"Nah." Sirius pushed himself away from the doorframe and went to kneel between Remus's legs. The bathroom tiles were cold through his denims. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up."

"I'm _really_ sorry."

Remus grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tilted his head back. "Shut _up_," he said, and, leaning over, pushed his mouth against Sirius's.

At first, it was more like a blow than a kiss. The pads of Remus's thumbs worked the hinges of Sirius's jaw until his mouth fell open. The tongue went in, hot and thick, and Sirius thought, _He's fucking me. The bastard's just sitting there, _fucking_ me._ It was arousing; some part of Sirius, some doggish part, liked to be taken like this, to be brought to heel, so he knelt there and let Remus do what he wanted.

His lips were bruised and his jaw ached by the time Remus got rid of, or got over, whatever was battering him inside. The kisses – actual kisses – slowed, but did not stop. Sirius began to respond. He turned his head so their noses nudged, and started to unzip Remus's flies. His own erection strained against his pants and denims, demanded attention.

"If you're done," he said hoarsely.

"Shh," said Remus.

"I'll…" He could have swallowed Remus whole. In his mouth, up his arse, it didn't matter; he just wanted Remus inside. He felt hollowed out, excavated. _This is your space. Inhabit me._

He opened his eyes to find Remus studying him curiously.

"What?" he asked.

"You're daft," Remus said.

"You knew _that_ when you signed on."

"I never signed anything," said Remus.

"Would you?" Sirius wasn't sure what he was asking. Neither was Remus, clearly. They blinked at each other.

Above their heads, an unfamiliar voice said, "Excuse me for interrupting, but do you, or do you not have a bedroom?"

They sprang apart. Sirius crashed into the sink. "Son of a—"

"It's the mirror," said Remus, pointing.

Sirius rubbed his lower back and turned. The mirror over the sink – another one of Mrs. Lupin's gifts – gave him his own reflection, Remus's, and the bathroom's opposite wall. "She didn't say it was magic."

"She didn't tell me, either. Just that she'd found it in Diagon Alley and thought it would go nicely."

"Your hair is too long," the mirror told Sirius. "You look like you've been fighting."

"Cheeky," remarked Sirius.

"We can take it down," Remus said. "Put the old one back. I didn't know."

"I'm sure it's got its uses," said Sirius, thinking of one.

"Your mother wants you to floss every day. And don't bite your nails. Not you," the mirror added sharply, when Sirius pointed questioningly at his chest. "The other one."

"Bloody Mum," Remus began.

"We'll fix it later," Sirius cut in. "Come on. The bedroom's more comfortable, anyway."

_____

Later, Sirius rolled away from Remus's still form, got out of bed, and padded quietly back to the bathroom.

"You'll catch your death," the mirror chided, "walking around, naked. When you catch pneumonia, you'll only have yourself to blame."

At least it didn't sound like Mrs. Lupin. Or like anyone, really. The voice hovered somewhere between alto and tenor and the accent was so mild that Sirius couldn't quite place it.

"Come on, then," he said smugly. "Admit it, you like what you see."

The mirror was silent.

"All right," said Sirius. "This is how it's going to be. Whatever Remus's mum might have told you to say, you're ours now, and we won't be talked to like…children. All right? You're allowed to speak up if someone forgets to flush the toilet, or if the loo roll needs changing. Important things. There's nothing wrong with my hair. There's nothing wrong with the way I dress."

"You're not dressed," the mirror pointed out.

"Remus Lupin now," Sirius continued brusquely. "If he wants to bite his nails, you bloody well let him. If, however, he starts to fret about how he looks, that his clothes aren't smart enough, or any of that rubbish, you tell him he's a looker. Tell him I said so, and I'm the only one that matters."

He raked his fingers through his hair, bit his lip, and glanced at his reflection. He hadn't bothered with the lights, so all he could see was the pale blur of his skin, and the shadows that defined his eyes and mouth. It was like looking at his own soul, and he wondered briefly – because he was tired – if he was really standing there, or if he was still in bed with Remus, dreaming this.

Then his hand drifted down to his thigh and he touched where Remus had scratched him when they'd fucked.

"Tell Remus that I love him, all right?" He tried to make it sound like a command, but it was a plea, and he supposed the mirror knew that. "If I forget. Not that I'm going to forget that I love him, but if I forget to tell him. If I have to get up and leave the flat before he does. Or if anything happens. If you don't, I'll make you recite poetry.

"And believe me," Sirius said – gruffly, because he was _not_ going to lose his cool in front of a talking mirror – "I can dream up some very _bad_ poetry."

 

04/22/06


End file.
